I’m sorry to let you guys know a whole three hours in but THERE IS A STAR TREK TNG MARATHON TODAY ON BBC AMERICA! Guys, right now it’s a Spock episode. IT IS MOTHERFUCKING SPOCK MOTHERFUCKERS! Even Spock would deem my joy totally logical.

I haven’t seen Prometheus but I feel like I have based on all the bitching online and a live text session with my brother as he watched an online bootleg of it. And, whatever, it sounds like a shitty movie and Ridley Scott clearly has Lucas Complex, which makes me sad, but what really irks me is the people online who use the following argument as to why everyone should just shut up about how the science in the movie is not so much science as huge, glaring plot holes:

“It’s called science FICTION. DUH!”

Firstly, this is dumb because it has the easiest counter-argument of all arguments ever (including internet arguments so…woah):

“It’s called SCIENCE fiction. Dicknuts.”

And I guess that brings me to my whole point. There seems to be a percentage of people that think that since something is made up it should have no rules at all. Any one can like or hate any shitty thing they want, I don’t care, but when you start spouting that science fiction doesn’t need to have any science in it or that you hate the Harry Potter movies because magic shouldn’t have rules what you are really saying is that you can’t express your appreciation or dissatisfaction for a piece of art like an adult and that things would be different in your movie/book/porn if you weren’t too lazy and untalented to make it.

If you have a fantasy story where magic is just “everyone can do whatever they want with no effort” there really isn’t any conflict and that is just boring. Science fiction without the science stretches the audience’s suspension of disbelief too far and when you have completely unlikable or inconsistent characters (like in Prometheus), the audience either doesn’t care or is angry at the time they are wasting.

Here’s an example of the result of the “it’s fiction and fiction can be whatever and everyone should suspend all disbelief forever” argument:

“Tim robbed a bank in Wyoming. The cops were chasing him so he ran south to Canada where he hid in the arctic wasteland of the Grand Canyon. He was eventually caught and sent to Canadian jail where they make you play hockey and apologize all day.”

THAT is fiction without any research or basis in reality at all. Sure, it’s awesome because I wrote it, but if you want something to be more than just silly or ridiculous or funny and actually draw suspense, character empathy, and any shred of believability, you need to actually do some fucking research and not just pull shit out of your butt and use it to fill plot holes. A lack of boundaries and consistent rules within the fictional universe throws the viewer out of that fictional universe. It becomes unrelatable because people are used to a world with rules like physics and the certainty that everyone is an asshole. Even if your fictional universe is that no one is an asshole, you can’t then be like “except that guy…for some reason…probably because the story needs conflict.” The whole story telling experience revolves around the audience feeling like part of the story, which can’t happen if they’re too busy thinking “Wait, why would an educated scientist take off their helmet on their first trip to an alien planet?” My brother says the CDC should use that part of Prometheus in their video “How to contaminate everything.”

To sum up, internal consistency, conflict, and boundaries are why Harry Potter made like a quadbatrillion dollars and has eleventy billion fans while not even your mom will read your series about the boy who can do anything ever in a world where no one is mean and everything always works perfectly and everyone has unicorns that you don’t have to feed and that poop rainbows. Also I’m super pissed there were no aliens in the Alien prequel. Facehuggers = wins; black goo and bad science = super shame spiral and regret punch combo. FINISH HIM!

The commercial I’m gonna talk about today is just…guys it’s just weird. It’s the Tostitos commercial with the anthropomorphic bag of chips that is telling the tale of why he changed his shape to scoops. Already that’s kinda weird. He’s a bag of chips, not a chip. It’s like asking someone why they changed the shape of their spleen while the asker is eating the askee’s spleen. I admit, I have a problem with most animated, anthropomorphic products. It just doesn’t make sense, does the cheese want me to eat a hunk of himself? Or his family? Maybe it’s a tactic in anthropomorphic food warfare to get people to eat their enemies. Maybe Twinkie the Kid is manipulating the human race into devouring those that would oppose his mighty and glorious rein as the one, true, and divinely chosen snack cake monarch!

The Tostitos bag though, he goes above and beyond the standard level of weird. He’s a little too enthusiastic to get dipped throughout the whole commercial, but nothing exceptionally unnerving. Until the very end, when this happens:

Bag says something about how his (spleen’s) new shape makes him able to handle any dip.

Random party goer: “Even this big ol’ dickp?”

Tostitos bag: “BRING IT! BRING IT!”

And then the bag vibrates in excitement while his mouth hangs open and his eyes are wide and staring far off, like an expression of pure pleasure.

Which leads me to the question: did I just see a bag of corn chips come. Is…is this porn? Can they show this on television? Did I accidentally turn on a very specific fetish skinimaxesque channel? Am I actually looking at the internet and got confused?

It’s weird and gross and uncomfortable, kinda like losing your virginity. So I guess Tostitos just popped our collective snack-food-sex cherries. Well, MOST of us (I’m looking at you, guy who has way too many Chester Cheeta stuffed animals, you sick fuck).

P.S. I have a very good bestie level friend that works for Frito-Lay and so while this commercial is awkward and inappropriate, I encourage each and every one of you to continue to enjoy their fine products. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to enjoy this delicious bag of Cheddar Cheese Sun Chips while I contemplate the sexual politics of intra-snack food copulation and whether the dip is the “top” because it goes on the chip.

Ok, here are the posts I posted on blogger but not here for some reason (probably crack) (you can’t say “crack” on ABC Family, true story).

This one was titled “Of Groundhogs And Ass Kickings” and was posted on February 3, 2012:

Did everyone have a good Groundhog Day yesterday? Did everyone celebrate it by watching the Bill Murray classic Groundhog Day? That was my favorite movie for a few years when I was a kid. Though that was back when pretty much anything Bill Murray did was awesome. Before shit like The Royal Tenenbaums. A first date I went on back in the day wanted to see A Life Aquatic when it was first out, and within 15 minutes I stopped watching the movie and started watching my date laugh while thinking of elaborate escape plans and how this would be our last date. But anything pre-Rushmore that Mr. Murray was in is pure gold. He was also the best part of Zombieland, and the rest of that movie was pretty effin’ good (I apparently say “effin'” now). My brother has the same birthday as Bill Murray. Badassery runs in the Toasty family. Here is a real conversation my brother and I had over text yesterday:

Toastmaster General (my brother): Have you watched Groundhog Day yet?

Me: No, it’s only like 1pm here [we live in different time zones].

TG: Toasty! You know the tradition! You wake up, watch Groundhog Day while eating donuts and juice, and then you can get back to sleepies.

Clearly Groundhog Day is serious business in my family.

Now on to other important news: the Super Bowl. Long time readers can probably guess where I stand. This Sunday feels like the retelling of the best story ever told. At least it better.

Now of course, if the New York Giants win I will be elated to the point of maybe actually hugging someone on purpose and not for the express purpose of getting laid. However, ideally I don’t just want the Giants to win. I want them to destroy the Patriots. I want it to be a legendary blow-out that will be spoken of in hushed, reverent tones until the end of time. I want the final score to be no less than 87 to no more than 0. By the fourth quarter I want our douchebag punter Steve Weatherford playing quarterback (because why the fuck not?) and the Patriots still can’t score a single fucking point. I want the loss to be so humiliating that the wives of every single player, coach, and staff member of the Patriot franchise simultaneously divorces them for the shame of their performance and the entire Patriot brand. I want “had anything to do with the 2012 New England Patriots” to be a new legally recognized reason for marital annulment.

TL;DR: Fuck the Patriots.

Though nobody wants the Patriots to loss more than my dad. When it was down to the Ravens or the Patriots, I admit I was leaning more towards wanting to play the Ravens, to help wash the bitter taste of the Super Bowl we do not speak of. But not my dad:

Me: So if we win the NFC Championship (psssh, if) then we’ll be playing the Ravens or the Patriots in the Super Bowl. Either way it’s a rematch.

Dad: Yeah, I want it to be the Patriots.

Me: Really? I mean, I’m always for beating the Patriots, but we kinda been there done that only four years ago. And the Ravens…well you know.

Dad: Yeah but no. I want to beat those scuzoids [this is seriously my dad’s version of swearing. I have never heard him say anything worse or even this bad about anyone in his whole life].

Me: Well, the Ravens could beat them and then they wouldn’t even make it to the Super Bowl.

Dad: Oh no, I want them to get to the Super Bowl so that they get their hopes up, then it’ll feel even worse when they lose. This maximizes the disappointment and hurt they will feel. Also, I want US to beat them. I want them to know who’s in charge.

Then he used the word “scuzoids” a few hundred more times before we hung up.

See, my dad grew up in New England so he has a long standing hatred of the New England Patriots and their fans. Just like how my brother and I grew up in the Washington, D.C. area and hate the Redskins almost as much as we love the Giants. Also the Redskins blow so hard the hookers on 9th should take notes.

I’m going to end with one last real life conversation relating to the upcoming game:

Roommate: You know Belichick was the defensive coordinator for the Giants under Bill Parcells?

Me: Yeah, then he decided to come out from under Parcells’ shadow and coach his own team only to discover he was nowhere near as talented and the only way he could win was by cheating.

Roommate: He has more Super Bowl rings than Parcells.

Me: From.Cheating.

Roommate: …fair enough.

[Side note: I just discovered that if you type “Belichick” into Google, the first auto-suggestion is “Belichick cheating”. Google knows what’s up].

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This one is called “Super Bowl As Disney Movie” and was posted on February 6, 2012:

I know I might be A LITTLE biased, but as I watched the Super Bowl, I kept thinking that Bilechick and Brady looked like the villains in a movie about hard work, good sportsmanship, and spirit, and Eli was the sweet country boy that refused to succumb to bullying douchebags. Bilechick just looked mean and angry every time the camera was on him, and Brady looked like the frat boy douche whose dad paid for him to get into college whereas Eli had to work really hard to qualify for a scholarship and so knows the value of things. The whole movie Brady harasses Eli and his friends, calling them “Bumpkins” and “Welfare kids” maybe there’s even a scene involving chasing Eli in a pick-up truck while beer bottles fall out of the back of the truck. Then the big game comes and Eli’s determination and sticking to his principles pays off and he wins the big game in a close and therefore thrilling victory proving that honesty and integrity mean more than money and good looks.

Also, Eli is a cutey patootey. You can quote me on that.

Anyway, I just finished a three hour drive back from visiting true Blue believers for the big game so I am tired and a little pissed and having to return to normal life. Therefore, I’m gonna keep this short and just say all that really needs to be said:

The New York Football Giants are number one. They all deserve mugs saying that. Or Super Bowl rings. I guess those work too.